I continued to slash through zombie throats with my knife, and watch them fall lifelessly onto the ground, twitching less and less every minute. I was in the zone, and nothing could stop me. I pulled out my .45, and began to shoot at the zombies that were chasing Mikey. Bang, screech, thump. Bang, screech, thump. I had found my rhythm.
“I'm Frank.” I mumbled. “Huh? I didn't hear you.” Zoe smirked. “Frank.” “What??” “It's FRANK GODAMMIT! FRANK! F-R-A-N-K!” I yelled. “I can tell you already don't like me.” She laughed to herself.